


On the Case

by ami_ven



Series: The Dawn of Time [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madame Vastra takes a case for Scotland Yard, and Jenny learns a few things about self-defense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Case

“Pardon the interruption, miss,” said Jenny, stopping just inside the parlor door. “But there are two gentlemen to see you. Detectives, miss, from Scotland Yard.”

“Thank you, Jenny.” Madame Vastra closed the thick leather-bound book she had been reading. “Show them in.”

The two men were still waiting by the door, and followed Jenny down the hallway. “Good evening, madam,” said the older man, before Jenny could announce them. “I’m afraid our business is quite urgent.”

“Indeed?” said Madame Vastra. “Then we can certainly dispense with pleasantries, Inspector. Jenny, you will stay. I should like you to hear this.”

“Yes, miss,” said Jenny, surprised, and moved to stand beside her.

Madame Vastra had her veil off, revealing her beautiful green skin, but Jenny noticed that both of the men avoided looking at her directly.

“There’s been a murder, Madame” said the younger detective. “The third, exactly alike, though the victims have no relation to each other. We can’t make heads nor tails of it.”

“So, naturally, you came to me,” said Madame Vastra, smiling. “Very well, gentlemen. Let me see your case.”

They had documents and photographs, detailing the murders of three men, in three different parts of the city. The Silurian woman examined each one carefully, then sat back in her chair.

“This is most puzzling, Inspector,” she said. “Have you still secured the latest crime scene?”

The older man nodded. “Indeed we have. This murder happened only hours ago.”

“Then there is no time to lose,” said Madame Vastra. “Jenny, fetch my coat. Your own, as well.”

“Miss?” Jenny asked.

“You shall be coming with me. Quickly, now!”

“Yes, miss.”

They didn’t bother hailing a cab, simply raced off down the street on foot. Even knowing that they were headed for the scene of a gruesome crime, Jenny couldn’t keep from smiling. She hadn’t run like this since she was a little girl, since her parents had been alive and she’d had time for play— _young ladies_ , she’d heard, endlessly afterwards, did not run. 

But Madame Vastra was running, easily keeping pace with the two detectives, until they reached an average-looking row home several blocks away from Paternoster Row. The detectives paused at the front steps.

“Madame Vastra,” said the older inspector. “Perhaps you and your maid should wait here…”

“Nonsense,” said the Silurian woman, and she swept past them into the house. “Jenny, do keep up.”

“Yes, miss,” said Jenny, and hurried after her.

The house was a mess— furniture overturned, curtains torn, an ominously man-shaped blood stain on the dining room floor. It was completely silent, except for their own footsteps, until suddenly there was a clattering noise from the next room.

“Halt, police!” yelled the younger detective. “Come out with your hands up!”

A man came through the open door, but not with his hands up. He burst into the room, colliding with the detective and beginning to struggle. When his partner intervened, he was sent flying with a blow to the head, and lay moaning on the floor. The younger detective soon joined him, and the attacker turned on the two women.

Madame Vastra pulled off her veil, but the man didn’t pause, lunging at her with a wordless cry. Jenny backed into the dining table, rattling the dishes. She spotted a large silver serving tray and snatched it up. Her employer was still facing the man, hands held up like claws, and Jenny edged sideways, trying to get behind their attacker. She raised the tray and brought it down, hard, on the man’s head. He staggered, then whirled on her, catching Jenny with an out-swept arm and sending her over the table in a swirl of skirts.

Jenny struck her head on the floor on the other side, and the room spun dangerously. She came back to herself some time later, to find that she was sitting up against a wall, with Madame Vastra crouched beside her.

“Miss?” she asked, blinking hard. “Did we win?”

Madame Vastra did not smile often, but when she did, it was dazzling. “Yes, my dear, we won. As I suspected, in this last murder, the killer did not have time to dispose of the evidence before the police arrived and was forced to return. He is in custody now.”

“Good,” said Jenny, then paused. “Was there something else, miss?”

“You did not run away,” said Madame Vastra. “When presented with a scenario for the human ‘fight or flight’ response, you chose to fight.”

“I… I suppose I did,” Jenny agreed.

“Excellent,” said Madame Vastra. “We shall begin your training at once.”

Jenny’s head hurt, and that didn’t make any sense. “Training, miss?”

“Yes, indeed. Instincts are all well and good, even for you mammals, but nothing can take the place of proper training.”

She meant to teach her how to fight, Jenny realized, and she frowned. “But, miss, I’m…”

“What?” asked Madame Vastra. “A female? A domestic servant? Both of those sound like excellent reason for such training. I’ll never understand why your species delights in make vulnerable persons even more helpless.”

“Miss?” said Jenny.

The Silurian smiled again. “You’ve hit your head, my dear. We should talk more once we get you home.”

Jenny knew she should have protested as she was helped to her feet, but the arm around her waist, the hip pressed against hers and the shoulder under her head simply felt too wonderful. She _did_ manage to pull away, though, when she was herded into the kitchen and Madame Vastra set about making tea.

“Please, miss,” said Jenny. “You shouldn’t be doing that, for me.”

“And who do you think made tea before you were hired?” Madame Vastra retorted. “I have obligations, as your employer, to see to your wellbeing.”

“Yes, miss,” said Jenny.

The other woman’s expression softened as she set two teacups on the table. “I was not pleased to be woken from my hibernation into this world of… dirty, immature apes. But I have learned to respect your species. For such violence-prone primates, you are capable of surprising insight and brilliance. And I am, perhaps, becoming fond of certain individuals, with whom I have spent much time.”

Jenny grinned. “I’m right fond of you, too, miss.”

They drank their tea quietly, then Madame Vastra rose. “Your mammal brains are very delicate,” she said, “and even so slight a blow to the head may have lasting consequences. Since I have no desire to wake and find that you have died in the night, you will sleep in my room this evening, so that I can better monitor your condition.”

“Yes, miss,” Jenny said, meekly.

There was a long couch in Madame Vastra’s bedchamber, and Jenny went to fetch the quilt from her own bed to spread over it. The couch was warm and comfortable, and she could hear Madame Vastra’s breathing from the other side of the room. Jenny had shared sleeping space, sometimes even a bed, with other girls at various situations, but it had never seemed this comforting before, and she was asleep almost instantly.

Jenny woke, suddenly, to someone shaking her shoulder. The room was still dark, and it took her a moment to recognize Madame Vastra. “What’s the matter, miss?” she asked, worried. “Have I overslept? Let me just—”

The lizard woman put a hand to her shoulder, preventing her from getting up. “Tell me your name, your current location, and the date,” she demanded.

“Jenny Flint, miss,” she said. “This is your bedroom. Paternoster Row, London, England. And it’s April the fifth, in the year eighteen-hundred eighty-seven.”

“It is after midnight and therefore April the sixth,” said Madame Vastra. “But I am convinced that you do not have any brain damage. You may go back to sleep, Jenny.”

“Good night, miss.”

Madame Vastra woke her twice more, with the same questions, but the third time, Jenny woke to the sun. She dressed and started breakfast— her head still ached, some, but she felt an odd sort of contentment, and she was still smiling when she brought the tray into the dining room.

“Are you feeling well this morning, Jenny?” Madame Vastra asked.

“Yes, miss, much better.”

“Excellent. Did you make breakfast for yourself?”

“Yes, miss. It’s in the kitchen.”

Madame Vastra nodded, approvingly. “Then bring it in here, we have much to do.”

“I couldn’t…” Jenny began, but her employer _tssked_.

“You mammals and your social constructs. I have need for you as more than a mere maid. You are not disconcerted by my appearance, and you show promise as a fighter. If you like, you may consider this a promotion.”

“Oh. Thank you, miss,” said Jenny.

That afternoon, Madame Vastra helped Jenny clear all of the furniture to the corners of an upstairs room. 

“Yes, this is enough space,” said the lizard woman, as Jenny hauled the rolled-up carpet into the next room. 

“Enough space for what?” Jenny asked.

“Training, my dear,” she replied, and Jenny was so taken by the easy endearment that she nodded for a moment, before she registered the rest of what Madame Vastra had said. 

“Miss?”

“I am training you to fight, Jenny,” said Madame Vastra, shortly. “If you are to continue aiding me in my investigations, I should like you to be able to take care of yourself.”

“Yes, miss,” Jenny said, slowly.

The lizard woman nodded briskly, then began unbuttoning her waistcoat. “While you will certainly need to practice fighting in these ridiculous garments that humans insist upon, I believe our first lesson will go better without them. Down to your undergarments, please, Jenny.”

“What?” Jenny squeaked.

Madame Vastra let out an annoyed huff. “You have seen _my_ undergarments often enough, as you help me dress. I do not understand why people of this time adhere to such ridiculous heights of modesty. No one shall see you but me, Jenny, I promise.”

“Yes, miss,” said Jenny, and began to unfasten her dress.

Her employer did the same, until both women were wearing only their loose shifts beneath their corsets. Following Madame Vastra’s lead, Jenny peeled off her stockings, and stood barefoot across from her.

“Now,” said Madame Vastra. She raised her arms, hands forming fists at shoulder height. “Copy my movements.”

Jenny did, her own movements slow at first, but with more force as she became familiar with them. They practiced for hours, until the sun had slanted across the bare floor to the far door, and Jenny’s arms began to ache.

“That shall be enough,” said Madame Vastra. “You are an excellent student, my dear. We will continue every day, as my schedule and your duties permit.”

“I…” said Jenny. In truth, she _wanted_ to continue learning. She had done nothing more than punch at the air, but she could see somewhat of how those movements would defend her against an attacker, how she could use them to fight back, for once.

She smiled. “I look forward to it, miss.”

THE END


End file.
